


The Unexpected (Assignment for) Mrs. Pollifax

by Emiline



Category: Mrs. Pollifax - Dorothy Gilman
Genre: Banter, F/M, Innuendo, Older Woman/Younger Man, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 14:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9240119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emiline/pseuds/Emiline
Summary: “Confess,” Mrs. Pollifax addressed Carstairs, “you didn’t pick Farrell for his artistic knowledge but for his ability to flirt.”“You wound me, Duchess,” Farrell said in mock despair. “I am a man of many talents.”Carstairs has an unusual assignment for his two favorite spies.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Niki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niki/gifts).



> Happy New Year Niki! I saw your Farrell/Mrs. Pollifax prompts in the Yuletide list and couldn't resist giving it a shot, though this is more pre-ship than actual ship.

Carstairs tapped the dispatch before him.

“We need a very particular set of skills for this case, Bishop.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t give me that look.”

“What look, sir?”

“You know what look. Can you think of someone more suitable than Mrs. Pollifax for this assignment? And we need Farrell too, for his expertise and because they’ve already worked together.”

“You know best sir,” Bishop replied dutifully. 

“You needn’t look so tragic about it,” Carstairs replied, but without any real annoyance in his voice.

“Yes, sir.”

Bishop made a mental note to pick up a fresh bottle of antacids on his way home.

* * *

When Mrs. Pollifax arrived, Farrell was already in the office with Carstairs and Bishop.

“Duchess!” he cried delightedly, sweeping her into a bear hug and kissing her cheek. “How are you? You look marvelous.”

“It’s a great pleasure to see you again too, Farrell,” she smiled. “It’s quite a relief to see you’re still in one piece.”

“What a magnificent hat you have Duchess, is it new? You look pretty as a picture in it.”

“You’re an incorrigible flatter,” she laughed, and he grinned at her roguishly. “But thank you. Yes, it is a new hat. I saw it the other day in the shop and I just couldn’t resist”. She touched the brim of the straw hat with the explosion of silk peonies and violets.

“If we might attend to the matter at hand,” Carstairs interrupted, “you’ll have plenty of time to get reacquainted after you’ve been briefed.”

“Of course.”

Carstairs cleared his throat. “We have reason to believe that an American-run charity in Paris is being used to funnel money to Communist Cuba. We also have reason to believe that something fishy is going on in a circle of artists whose work is patronized by many of the wealthy donors to the charity. We are not sure if the illicit activities in the art world are connected directly to the charity’s, but we are certain that some of the players are the same. We need the two of you to investigate. You are not to attempt to apprehend any of those involved, what we want is more definitive information on those persons involved and the extent of the activities.”

He took a sip of coffee and winced.

“I think that’s your cup from this morning,” Bishop said helpfully.

“Thank you, Bishop. So that’s about the sum of it. I’ll let you read over the identities you will assume,” he finished, handing each of them a folder. “We’ll have your passports and other documents ready soon.”

Mrs. Pollifax and Farrell opened their dossiers and started to read.

“My goodness,” Mrs. Pollifax exclaimed at the same time as Farrell cried “Married?”

“Yes,” Carstairs said smoothly. “You’re in Paris for your 5-year anniversary, as a matter of fact. Mrs. Pollifax, that is Mrs. Templeton, is a wealthy, philanthropically-minded lady with an elecletic taste for fine art. Your part as Mr. Templeton is to be a successful businessman with a very dull and uninteresting business that will excite no curiousity, but a passion for art. Blissfully happy, you are in Paris to celebrate your 5-year anniversary, and while there you are purchasing more art for your home and secretly (at least from Mrs. Templeton) pursuing various artists with the idea of opening a small gallery in the United States for wife to run.”

He allowed himself a moment to enjoy their stunned expressions.

Mrs. Pollifax and Farrell glanced quickly at each other and then away, Mrs. Pollifax to the papers still clutched in her hand, Farrell to Carstairs, who had a look of supreme calm.

“Isn’t a trophy wife usually called for in these sorts of situations?” Mrs. Pollifax inquired.

“Mrs. Pollifax, I am absolutely certain you are our best operative for the job. People trust you, they confide in you, you have an astonishing capacity to ferret out information, and no one ever suspects you. They simply cannot imagine that someone like you could be something anywhere approaching a spy. Furthermore, you have an ingenuity and ability to think quickly on your feet, as well as the ability to defend yourself should the need arise.”

Mrs. Pollifax flushed faintly with the praise. “Well then,” she said. “I accept.”

“Excellent. Farrell?”

“Yes, I’ll do it. I’m certainly not going to let you send anyone else with Mrs. Pollifax.”

“That’s settled then,” Carstairs said with satisfaction. “We’ve set up a house for you to use for a few days before you head out, and we’ll give you some money to purchase a few things. Mrs. Pollifax, do you want to use the wedding ring you already have?”

“Absolutely not,” Farrell said before Mrs. Pollifax could speak. “I can’t ask her to use the ring Virgil gave her, it wouldn’t be fair. I’ll buy her a new one, and one for myself that goes with it.”

“Farrell, really, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I insist, Duchess.” His eyes twinkled. “Besides, can’t a husband buy his wife a present now and then?”

“If you’re really set on it-”

“I am”

“Thank you. I’m sure whatever you will select will be lovely.”

“Not half as lovely as you, my dear,” he responded gallantly, kissing her hand.

“Confess,” Mrs. Pollifax addressed Carstairs, “you didn’t pick Farrell for his artistic knowledge but for his ability to flirt.”

“You wound me, Duchess,” Farrell said in mock despair. “I am a man of many talents.”

“I know you are,” she replied, thinking of Albania.

Bishop made a strange noise that quickly turned into a coughing fit.

“I meant professionally,” Mrs. Pollifax amended, two spots of color bright on her cheeks.

Farrell, ridiculous man, had the gall to wink at her.

“You know what I meant!”

“Of course, dear lady, of course. Are you quite alright, Bishop?” Farrell inquired innocently.

“Yes, thank you. Just got a bit of coffee down the wrong pipe.”

“Is that so? You ought to be more careful.”  
Bishop glared at him.

“For heaven’s sake,” Mrs. Pollifax cut in hastily, “do leave the poor man alone, Farrell.”

“Anything for you, my dear.”

“Yes, well, I think we had better let you both go and memorize the details about your new assignment,” Carstairs said firmly. “You have 24 hours to get everything straightened out with your normal lives before you will arrive at the house we’ve selected.

After the door shut behind Farrell and Mrs. Pollifax, Carstairs dropped his head into his hands

“Bishop, bring me an aspirin,”

“Yes, sir.” He pulled a bottle out of his pocket. “Here, sir”.

Carstairs looked at him in astonishment. “Do you always carry aspirin on your person?” he asked, amused. 

“Only recently,” Bishop replied.

Carstairs laughed. “Oh Bishop, what have I done?”

“Whatever it is, it’s too late to stop it now.”

“Very true. Bring me the files for my meeting with the ambassador, will you? There’s something I want to look at.”

“Yes, sir.”


End file.
